Moriarty's Mistress
by CliosLibrarian
Summary: John is drawn to and misbehaves with a damsel in distress, who happens to be the mistress of James Moriarty...but is she here to help or to harm? Vanilla S&M undertones. Some sexual situations, not too graphic.


The lady wore a dark ankle length skirt with a high slit on each side, with black boots that rose to the knee. Her white collared shirt was fitted. She wore no jewelry, but the slightest trace of a colorful tattoo peeked out at the base of her neck. Her auburn hair was just long enough to tuck behind her ears, though it now fell loosely around her face. She was perched on the edge of the parlor chair, balancing a mug of milky tea on her lap when we walked into the flat.

Sherlock glanced at me, a question in his eyes. I shook my head quickly, just a side to side nod, to indicate that I had no idea who she was, or what she she was during inside our flat.

"Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to let me in." Her face showed no emotion to betray her intentions. Her accent was American, but very crisp. Sherlock crossed over the room to stand opposite her and just stared, waiting.

I remembered my manners and found my voice, "What can we do for you, Miss...?".

At my question, she rose up from her chair and placed my mug on the table, walking right past Sherlock to shake my hand with a firm grip.

"Please call me Jane...Dr. Watson " she said, and her smile transformed her whole face and I was suddenly struck with how beautiful she was.

"Jane...?" Sherlock asked, now standing up, behind us.

She turned to shake his hand, her smile less friendly now, and looked him directly in the eye. With a sigh she said, "Just Jane, Mr. Holmes...I...I have a story to tell you", and with that she sat back down, her face downcast for just a moment.

Sherlock sat down in his usual chair and I found a seat on the couch, waiting for her to continue. She started to fidget. I was mildly surprised that for once Sherlock was patiently waiting for someone else to do the talking. But when I looked at his face I realized he was just as fascinated by her sudden presence as I was, though undoubtedly for very different reasons.

She glanced at us both and nodded, almost to herself, and began, " I am here because I have nowhere else to go, and when you have nowhere else to go you find yourself in the last place you expect"

"I am taking a big risk coming here. He has me followed wherever I go...he puts tracking chips in my phone, in my purse...sometimes in my clothes."

"Who?" I asked, which she ignored.

Sherlock gave me a testy look and said quietly, "Please continue". She paused long enough to give me a measure of her smile.

"I brought this on myself. That's why it's so hard for me to...if I were really a victim, then it would be easy to tell you. But I went to him." She had been wringing her hands in her lap, and it was making me nervous, so I handed her the tea cup to give her something else to do.

"Last winter, my husband and my two girls were walking to school when they were killed by a drunk driver. A man who had many arrests for DUIs, and for disorderly conduct...but he was a rich man, well connected, and when the case went to trial it was plead down. Evidence had gone missing and the more serious charges were thrown out. My whole family was gone and he got probation. Of course I protested...I wrote letters, I gave interviews...everyone was sorry, but no one could help me, no one would help me. I looked for other ways to get back at him, and I kept pushing the line further and further. One night I broke into his house and sat there in the dark plucking up the courage to slit his throat. I was half-crazy, and more afraid that I would screw it up, than of what might happen to me..realizing that if I didn't succeed he would just go on with his life as though he hadn't destroyed mine. I sat there for hours, in the dark, with a knife in my hand...but then the sun came up. That morning when I finally made it home I found that someone had slipped a card under my door, a blank business card with an address neatly written in pen, and a time...a park along the riverside. So I went."

And she turned in her chair to fully face me, avoiding Sherlock's eyes, though I felt that it was to him she was really speaking, "You have to understand that they were my whole world. And they were gone and there was nothing...there was just me and that wasn't enough."

"My new "benefactor" was there waiting for me on a wooden bench. He looked younger than I imagined someone like him should look and he was well dressed and handsome in his own way. He seemed very calm to me and very much in control. He asked me to sit and then he listened while I made my request, although I was fairly sure he knew exactly what I wanted. What I needed for him to do. He explained that he would be happy to help me...he guaranteed success...but there was a price. When he told me what he wanted I nearly laughed at him, even as wretched as I was, and said yes without hesitating. A life for a life, he said. We shook on it, all very civilized. I don't think I even wondered what he meant at the time, or maybe I didn't care. Was he going to kill me or did he want me to kill someone else?" She stopped suddenly and looked around the room, "Do you have anything stronger to drink?" I jumped up and went into the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, "I'll see what I can find".

When I returned I saw that she had moved to the couch where I had been sitting, clutching a pillow to her body. She was waiting for me, and Sherlock was getting restless, moving around the room. I handed her a small jelly glass filled with whiskey, and then placed the bottle down on the table. She in turn moved her legs to the side, assuming that I would sit back down, beside her. I did this without looking at Sherlock and poured another shot into the already empty glass. He cleared his throat, and said "So which did he mean?" growing more impatient now.

She breathed in the scent of the whiskey before she drank it down, and then tugged at her lower lip with her teeth.

"Within a week, the man who had killed my family was dead, a car crash...his blood alcohol level 3 times the legal limit. Horrific accident, the paper said...a tragedy that could have been prevented. He had burned to death on the side of the road. I really thought that I would feel better, but his death left me feeling more empty than ever.

Nothing would ever fill me again. And then I did what people do...I woke up the next morning, and the next morning after that. I got on with life. I traveled, I volunteered my time, I started a foundation in their names. I did everything I could to keep myself busy, and went to bed exhausted every night. Months went by.

And then one night I came home and he was sitting on my bed. I was startled, but not really surprised. I had figured all along that I was on borrowed time. I thought to myself...and now I die...and it was worth it, knowing that bastard was dead. I walked up to the bed and closed my eyes.

He said, "My dear, do you think I came here to kill you?". "A life for a life", I quoted, without opening my eyes. "Oh, you have completely misunderstood...why would I kill you, now? "

I opened my eyes then and saw that he was taking off his jacket. I saw then that he had placed purple orchids on my pillow, my favorite flowers. It became quite clear to me what he intended. I didn't even have the grace left to feel ashamed. I sat down on the edge of the bed and waited. This seemed to amuse him, but he made no comment.

He was so gentle at first, so careful with me. He stood me up and pulled my shirt over my head, then slowly removed the rest of my clothing, each piece, one by one. We did not speak, and I did not look him in the eye as he appraised me. He told me my skin was flawless, that I had no need for makeup, that I had the body of a dancer...he moved his hands along my body, while I stood there without moving.

He stood in front of me and removed all of his clothing then, slowly and deliberately, looking for some reaction. He kissed me very gently, waiting for me to return the kiss. When I didn't he suddenly cursed and pushed me down on the bed. I kept my face blank as he began to touch me...everywhere. He would stop and wait for a reaction, and then he would continue...a little rougher each time, and he began to describe the things he wanted to do to me. He said terrible things, leaving me with no illusions about what price I would pay.

I know now that I was trying to make him angry, angry enough to kill me. I realized I wanted to die. And so I said nothing and I did not move. But I think the thing that made him lose his composure was when he looked in my eyes and saw no fear. He cursed at me and lost all control. He pushed himself inside me with no preparation. He raped me brutally, while he bit my neck, and he then closed his hands around my neck so tightly that it brought tears to my eyes.

When he was done, he got dressed very slowly, as though nothing had just happened. I just lay there on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dry my eyes, and he forced me to look at him then by grabbing me under my jaw. He was smiling when said hatefully, "You are mine, and I will have you. I WILL make you feel something...I don't really care if it's pleasure or if it's pain".

Jane stopped then, and shifted on the couch. She turned and reached behind her back to lift the bottom edge of her shirt and showed us some marks on her back. Some of them were fresh. "I think that you can guess what our encounters have deteriorated into over the last year."

"Yes, and I don't think John cares to hear any more of the details", Sherlock said, with an edge in his voice as he looked at me pointedly and then back at her. I realized I was gritting my teeth.

She unconsciously patted my hand, as though to comfort me. "Oh, yes well...like I said, I did bring this on myself. And that is not the worst of it, for who could I go to? I couldn't tell anyone, and I couldn't stop him. I couldn't escape him. No matter where I went, he found me. He's everywhere. And when he gets really angry at me, he hurts the people around me. He knows all to well by now that threatening to hurt me doesn't work. He has come so close to killing me so many times...but he always stops himself. I think because he knows that it's what I want."

"What do you need us to do?" I said, my jaw set, but Sherlock had a very thin smile on his face.

"You still don't see...I don't want you to help me. I came here so you can use me." She said, very matter of fact.

"Use you?" I asked, "How?"

"Oh, John", Sherlock spat out, shaking his head, "Haven't you guessed? She means for us to use her as bait...for Moriarty! "

I looked at her then in shock, and she met my gaze steadily, nodding.

"Yes, . I've come here, and I've taken my time in telling you my tale so that you will understand...he will come for me. I can't be free until one of us is dead. He is everywhere."

"What happened today?" I asked her, finally noticing what Sherlock must have seen from the start, she had dark splotches on her skirt, and very fine flecks of red on the sleeves of her stark white shirt.

"We were sitting down to breakfast when one of his men stepped forward to pull back my chair and his gun fell out onto the table. I didn't even have time to think about it. I grabbed the gun and I shot James as he sat reading his newspaper. I really thought I had succeeded because he slumped over and didn't move. Then the whole room was chaos...one of his men went to help him up, while the others pulled their guns and pointed them at me. I dropped my hands to my sides and let the gun slip into the chair.

He opened his eyes then and rose up from his chair to stop them. I have never seen him so wild, he was raving...he picked up the gun and came toward me. But he turned at the last moment and shot his bodyguard instead, and kept shooting him until he ran out of bullets. But he was looking at me the whole time. He was bleeding heavily now, and was in pain, though it was obvious I had failed to seriously wound him. He walked over and slammed the gun down on the table in front of me. He looked at me for a long time, and I stared him straight in the eyes but I still wasn't sure what would happen. All of his men seemed confused too. Then he leaned over slowly, kissed me hard on the cheek, and whispered, "you will never get away from me...".

I knew then that I had only one option left, and since he already wants to kill you, I'm not putting any other lives at risk. I escaped through the back yard during all the commotion. It won't take him long to realize that I am gone and check on me."

They regarded each other then, as she pointed to her coat, and Sherlock nodded, his smile a horrible thing to see.

"He wouldn't be foolish enough to come here, and risk being caught on surveillance, not since the pool incident." I chimed in, full of bravado.

"He won't be able to resist Dr. Watson", she said forcefully.

"She's quite correct John...and she has given us a gift in coming here. It may not be tonight, but he will come. He won't be able to stand the thought of it. His Jane, here with us, sharing his secrets. It will eat him up and then he won't be able to help himself. He will come for her himself to take her away from me. You will stay here with us, Jane, until it is over. Now...I must make some arrangements", he said, and by the end of his speech he was quite animated.

He got up to do a cursory check of the windows and the door and then sat down at my computer, mumbling to himself and began to type furiously. She and I sat there on the couch, momentarily forgotten. I had taken her glass and had downed a shot of whiskey myself by that point, and so I didn't hesitate to tell her she must take my room for the night.

"Thank you Dr...",

I interrupted her, "Please call me John."

"Thank you...John".

"Well, you must be tired, and it looks to be a long night. I'll show you where everything is and just steal a pillow. It's quite a comfortable couch really." She smiled, gratefully, and followed me up the stairs. Sherlock didn't notice us leave. He was far away from us, engrossed in his own thoughts.

I quickly retrieved a pillow and a blanket and said good night to her. I then retrieved my gun from my desk and tucked it into the back of my trousers, covering it with my jumper.

I felt as though I would say something foolish if I stayed any longer in the room with her, so I hurried down the steps.

I was downstairs prepping the couch for the night when I heard a loud thump from my bedroom. I made it all the way up the stairs and into the moonlit room before she had a chance to call out, "I'm fine", and I realized she was standing near the closet, completely naked.

She laughed then as she held out one of my shirts, looking at the gun in my hand. I quickly placed the gun down on the bedside table, feeling my face turn red, and stammered an apology, but I couldn't stop looking at her. She was breathtaking. I don't know what came over me, but a heart beat later, I was in front of her. I made no move to touch her. For a long moment she and I looked at each other in the dark. Then, with one hand she closed the door, looking at me again with that same sad smile. She placed her hands on my face and drew me in, kissing me fully on the mouth as I stared into her dark green eyes without blinking.

I hesitated only a moment before I returned her kiss, wrapping her up in my arms, and pulling her closer. She pulled back from me and craned her head to kiss my neck and that's when I looked down the length of her back and saw the scope of her ordeal. White scars, in short jagged lines, wound their way down her back and her thighs. She also had tattoos of exquisite detail...koi fish swimming across the tapestry of her skin. I started to trace the scars with my fingers, one by one, while she kissed her way down my neck.

She tugged my jumper up and so I helped her tear it off, along with the shirt underneath. I wanted to tell her that this was a bad idea, or at least I thought I should say something...but I didn't. I let her kiss her way down my chest as she kneeled and pushed me down to a seated position at the end of the bed. I tried to touch her again, but she wouldn't allow it. She pushed my hands away gently and continued to kiss her way down to my stomach as she nudged me back, laying me down on the bed.

I realized then that she didn't want me to do anything. She wanted to be in control. So I relaxed into the bed as she unzipped my pants and pulled them down, just out of the way. She ran her hands under me from the small of my back, and over my hips and down my legs, resting them behind my knees. She parted my legs so that she could bring her body up between them and closed her hands around me at last.

When she took me into her mouth I finally let out the breath that I had been holding in, and groaned as she licked along the length of my cock before closing her mouth over me again. She teased me like that for several minutes, but she allowed me to touch her face and hold her head to bring her closer. I wanted to touch her, to kiss her body, and minister to her in kind, but every time I tried to pull her up toward the bed, she would push me down again and use her tongue to silence my protests. This went on for a while, very slowly, and it wasn't long before I couldn't remain compliant any more. I began to grasp her head tighter, I pulled at her urgently..and she suddenly climbed up on the bed and positioned herself over me.

I was nearly mad with wanting her, unable to catch a full breath, and I couldn't keep my hands to myself any longer. I sat up, kissing his breasts, as I pulled her onto me and gasped as she took me inside herself roughly and began to move. I wound my hands behind her back so that I could pull down on her shoulders and gain some leverage on the rhythm she was building. I tried to slow her down but she was insistent, and she fought me, much stronger than she looked. I used my weight against her and tried again to slow her down, to draw out every sensation, but she yanked my hands down and pushed me onto my back, pinning my hands up by my head as she rode me unforgivingly. I pushed against her hands and thrust my hips upward, again and again as the pressure built inside me and then finally I felt her body shudder violently, from her core, as she slowed and arched her back, placing her hands on my chest to steady herself. I took the opportunity to grasp her hips, growling as I brought her down roughly to meet me. I plunged into her again without pity and finally let go and found my release.

She let herself collapse into my arms then and lay her head near my shoulder, breathing shallowly. This time the smile she gave me was sweet. Words formed on my lips, but suddenly her eyes went wide and she raised one finger in warning.

From downstairs, we heard the loud crack of a door being forced and I heard Sherlock shout my name as she sat up and said gravely, "He's here".

She quickly slid off my body, and turned around in the bed...but she kept her hand on mine.

I reached for my gun and rose from the bed to meet him.


End file.
